15 Hours: All is in Readiness

Donations to the women’s shelter. Check.

Sage stick for smudging the old and new spaces purchased. Check.

Odds & ends donated to Best Buy’s recycling program. Check.

Checks from my job cashed and address changed at the bank. Check.

The availability of fresh-baked pizza in the morning right after Costco opens. Check.

The apartment: In absolute readiness for tomorrow’s move. Furniture’s neatly arranged by size and weight in one area of the studio. Ditto boxes.

The tiniest of pinholes, scratches, dings, even those made by former tenants but left unfixed, have been spackled and painted with a paint that I matched to a T.

I don’t want to get dinged for someone else’s damage! Pierce Properties is one to do it. They’re famous/infamous for it.

I can’t abide by mean-spirited unfairness.

I even repainted the closet shelf and small scuff marks deep into the closet’s back because they’re not to be trusted but feared for concocting reasons to claim chunks of deposits.

Nothing’s escaped my eagle eye. Nothing’s been left to chance with them!

Is it worth going to extremes to avoid their penalties for even the tiniest things like pinholes?


Jack’s a Dull Boy

I’ve been all work and no play most of my life and particularly lately. A real workhorse with nose to the grindstone at the job and then at “home” for a while. For two months since I was told they’re not renewing the lease.

Now, with all in readiness, I can relax. Enjoy a proper meal out. A gorgeous and nutritious salad at Wildflower cafe.

I like this feeling. The feeling of incredible accomplishment. Of all things done thoroughly, meticulously and to human perfection. Satisfies the very hard worker that I am.

That I do it all with no help requested or received is a lifelong problem still to be worked on and healed. Maybe. One day. Maybe.

I’d Beat Out Meryl!

If Hollywood handed out Academy Awards for exemplary and commendable hard work and labor, I’d win for sure! I’d outnumber even Meryl Streep in her golden statues!

Since there’s no one to appreciate or even recognize my superb labors and work, I can only pat my own back. And, I’d like to imagine, bow humbly before applause from angels and etheric beings who do recognize good works.

And take myself out for a healthful salad that otherwise I wouldn’t (price-prohibitive).

Sometimes a girl’s gotta be kind to herself and acknowledge work well done.

Extraordinarily rare that I do that. Kindness to and appreciation of the self are NOT in my family repertoire, history or experience. Making the conscious choice to treat myself to a nice meal all the more meaningful.

Well, 15 hours now and count-count-counting with the pit-pit-pitter-patter of anticipation …


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